Music of Camelot
by Silverstar
Summary: It's time to hit shuffle! We're off on another series of different one-shots, and you guys can help choose songs. Inside you'll find your daily fix of angst and hurt/comfort.
1. Never Be Alone

**_Hey guys! So, yes, I know this has been done like six trillion times before, but I've always wanted to try it, so here we go. This is the first of the many song-inspired one-shots, so please let me know what you think! This might be slightly different to my usual writing style considering I haven't written Merlin and Arthur in what seems like forever, so sorry! Anyway, I'll let you get to reading._**

 ** _Another note - please let me know if you have a better title idea, because the current one is awful. But it's midnight and I'm drowning in revision, so please forgive me._**

 ** _And the first song on shuffle is -_**

 **Song:** _Never Be Alone_

 **Artist:** _Shawn Mendes_

 **Characters: **_Merlin, Hunith, Will, Arthur_

 **Genres: **_Angst, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort_

 **Words:** 3773

* * *

 _I promise that one day I'll be around, I'll keep you safe, I'll keep you sound…_

Growing up with unmarried parents would have been hard enough by itself. The fact that Balinor had never been around throughout all of Merlin's childhood was worse, and the cruelty of other youngsters about the village did nothing but add to the confused emotions that he already experienced whist growing up and simultaneously attempting to tame and hide his magic. During the earliest years of his life, Merlin could recall the soft glow of the flames in the fireplace, the reflection lapping at the floor and the warm tones of his mother's voice, slow and steady as she spoke of far-away lands and loving friends who cared no matter what, and a dragon; a world filled with magic as pure as his, and as good and loving as his own heart. The then eager five-year-old lapped up the tales like a cat to milk, and images of a golden future danced through his dreams.

Fast forward a few years, and we discover the lonely silhouette sitting on the crest of the hill, the sun-scorched strands of corn and fraying wheatgrass arching up above his head and shoulders in the warm breeze. The lighter evenings of the summer months granted the young eight-year-old the freedom that his soul desperately sought.

Drawing his knees up to his chest, Merlin wrapped his arms around his legs and rested his chin on top of his skinny knees. The amber of the sun's rays flooded through the trees behind him, scattering dappled light across the back of his thin shirt, red fabric frayed and bunched up around his waist. It wasn't that Hunith didn't care, nor that she didn't try – the poor woman worked all the hours she could but funds were sparse, and fabric was limited.

In front of him the sunset engulfed the skies in swirling waves of pastel; peach, salmon, violet and streaks of midnight blue ghosting the upmost branches of the horizon. Soft clouds were tinged with peach edges, turning the landscape a warm and golden hue. The countryside spilled out in front of him, a patchwork of fields bordered by the small scattering of houses that Merlin knew was Ealdor. He never normally wandered this far, but Hunith was working late and the freedom the rise of the hill offered sounded too good to resist. Plucking a nearby dandelion delicately between two lithe fingers, he brought the fluffy cotton to his freckled nose and stared at the flower in fascination.

' _You're supposed to make a wish or something, aren't you?_ ' A confident voice seemed to whisper around him, tinged with laughter. Merlin brought his head from his knees with a start, casting a wide-eyed gaze about his immediate surroundings in search of the speaker, only to be met with no one but the nearby blackbird pecking about the base of the oak tree. He tossed the feathered creature the few crumbs he had in his pockets and watched, a small smile twitching at the corners of his mouth as the bird hopped closer.

' _Go on then._ ' Merlin tilted his head to one side, the breeze ruffling the too-long hair that tickled the nape of his neck. ' _Show me how it's done.'_ He blinked, pursing his lips and squeezing his eyes shut as the faint words of his wish died unspoken but for in his mind as he blew against the dandelion. Tiny white fronds leapt about in the air, then floated towards the horizon like small doves spreading their wings. Merlin reached out one hand, giggling as he felt one brush against the tip of his finger.

Almost as soon as he had been thinking of a wish, they were gone and he was left alone with his thoughts again. He was too bright for his age, really he was, and the cruel jeers and bruises from his peers left him hurt and confused. He didn't know why they all despised him so much, and he couldn't help not having a father around.

 _Right now, it's pretty crazy and I don't know how to stop or slow it down…_

Feeling the stinging heat trickle down his cheeks, he reached up to cuff away the tears, shaking his head in an attempt to forget the raised voices and blows from earlier that day. Instead he focussed on letting the familiar warmth flood through his body, his eyes lighting a molten gold as his magic swept around him, comforting. Picturing an image in his head, he let the energy form the shape of a small golden dragon in the palms of his outstretched hands.

"Merlin?" A young voice called from between the trees, bracken crunching beneath the soles of worn boots. Merlin blinked, the dragon dissipating instantly as he lost his concentration. Will burst from between the trees excitedly, a wide grin plastered to his face as he jumped down next to his younger friend. "Look what I found!" He exclaimed, reaching out cupped hands to reveal a small and slimy brown form. "It's a frog."

Delighted by this new find, Merlin banished all thoughts and memories of a familiar yet unknown voice and focussed on his friend (and the frog). It would be a few more years until he would hear it again, on his twelfth birthday.

* * *

"Hey." A gentle hand gripped his shoulder, before releasing him as Will sunk down amongst the wild flowers next to him. "Merlin, c'mon, look at me."

 _Hey. I know there are some things we need to talk about…_

"You promised. You promised you wouldn't leave." Merlin's voice cracked midway through his sentence and he turned away, fixing his sights on the horizon, blue eyes glistening with unshed tears. He traced the fading outline of a bruise across his shin, and shook his head, dark hair waving gently in the wind.

"I'm sorry." Will didn't force him to look away, instead reaching across so that their shoulders brushed. "It's only for a few weeks, Mer, honest. You know how Father wants me to get more involved with the farm now, and this trip is the way I can prove myself to him."

"You don't need to prove yourself to anyone, we already know you're…" Merlin waved his arms wildly at his blond friend, sighing as he jammed his hands under his crossed legs and biting his lower lip in an anxious gesture.

 _And I can't stay…_

Will remained silent, dropping his gaze to the floor, shredding at the remains of a fallen leaf with ragged nails. Merlin didn't say a word either. "They don't say anything when you're around."

"You'll be alright. Just…try and stay out of trouble until I get back, alright?" Merlin shrugged, not looking up. Will sighed, running a hand through his tangled hair in exasperation. "Are you coming back yet, or…?"

"I'm gonna stay up here for a bit longer." Merlin replied in a small voice, digging his nails into his palms in an effort not to cry. Ever since he could remember, Will had been there to keep him grounded and to stop the bullies, to talk a certain elderly man out of forcing Merlin into too many punishments for the _tree incident_. He'd been there for the good times and through the bad. And though the trip may only be for a season, it seemed like so much longer to the raven-haired boy.

' _You never told me. How they treated you, I mean._ '

Merlin frowned, recalling the voice from years before. His magic was practically humming as he listened to the voice echoing in his mind.

' _I'm sorry._ _You, of all people, don't deserve that.'_

He wrapped his arms around himself and flopped back, staring up at the cloud scattered skies above, tree branches reaching out for the sun's embrace. Will was really leaving. He closed his eyes, and just breathed, flexing his fingers as he listened to the magic of the world.

 _Just let me hold you for a little longer now…_

* * *

By the time he arrived in Camelot, Merlin had learnt a lot. More experienced in life, he understood that the negative words and abuse he'd been subjected to as a young child couldn't be allowed to affect him as an adult. Still though, he couldn't bring himself to explain to Arthur why he felt so strongly about the street-fights that occasionally (rarely nowadays) broke out in the streets of Camelot, or why he flinched when the knights got too rough (despite all their good intentions, they _were_ burly men). Some days, normally after there'd been a noble who still believed in the traditions of servants being worth practically nothing, he couldn't help but remember the words that slipped like poison into his mind.

" _Merlin_!" A bread roll found its way across the room to hit him square in the face and Merlin jolted back to reality, bending down to pick up the bread. "Are you awake now?" Arthur asked him in exasperation from his position lounging like a cat across his bed, staring at the ceiling, his arms folded beneath his head.

"Definitely. All ears. Giving you my full attention." Merlin caught his friend's eye and ducked his head to hide his grin. "Alright clotpole, what is it?"

"There aren't any meetings I'm forced to go to later, are there?"

Merlin considered telling him that there were, before noting the longing look directed towards the sunny countryside visible from the glass of the windowpane. "No," he agreed, sinking down onto the bed next to him, and absent mindedly picking at a loose thread in the covers.

"Prepare the horses, then." Arthur sat up, looking very pleased with himself as he practically leapt off the bed. It never failed to make Merlin laugh how the blond could go from being a confident and well-behaved prince to suddenly turning into hyperactive, cheerful and like a five-year-old – and what made it even more special was that Merlin was one of the only people allowed to see this side of Arthur. He caught himself daydreaming again and physically shook himself, throwing a clean shirt across to Arthur on his way out.

The stables were always bustling, and the stable-hands were used to seeing Merlin there. One boy, Tom, greeted him with a cheerful wave and led out the familiar chestnut mare that Arthur always rode, followed by the dappled grey, still chewing on a mouthful of hay. Patting his usual horse affectionately on the muzzle, Merlin took the reins from Tom with a grateful nod. "Thanks."

"No problem." Tom scratched at the growing stubble across his chin and noted the clear skies allowing the sun's full power to burn down. "Don't forget the extra water this time, will you?"

Merlin grimaced, recalling his sunstroke incident the summer before. "Don't worry, I won't be doing that again." Tom chuckled, giving him a friendly punch to the shoulder before returning to his duties within the stables. There was a new foal and the young man had been working non-stop for the past few days, something which Merlin admired.

Arthur was sitting on a wall in the citadel when Merlin reached him, taking a bite out of an apple.

"There you are," he exclaimed upon spotting his manservant. "How much slower could you have been?" He let his horse nuzzle his hand, feeding her the rest of the apple and smiling at the gentle creature.

Merlin stared down at his feet. This was just going to be one of those days when he was bombarded with the memories of pre-Camelot and couldn't get the insecurities out of his head. Normally he'd head out to a certain lake and would practise with his magic until he was feeling better but the entire day was going to be taken up with chasing after Arthur while the prince sped his horse into a gallop.

"Hey." Arthur's voice was unusually quiet and gentle as he reached out, resting a hand on Merlin's shoulder. "Are you okay?"

Merlin swallowed past the lump in his throat, his mind whirling in a mixture of emotions. To tell Arthur, to not; to care, to not. Instead he mutely nodded, and turned away to tug himself up and into the saddle, following Arthur and his horse out of the city, the hooves clattering against the cobblestones. The pathway through the field and up into the forest was dusty and dry from the lack of rain and Merlin broke his horse, Willow, into a canter until they had reached the clearing. He wasn't even aware that he bypassed Arthur a while back until the prince drew up next to him, frowning as he leant across to snatch a grip of the reins. Willow slowed to a halt instantly and Merlin reached out to snatch back control when Arthur's hands gripped his own, stopping him.

 _Take a piece of my heart and make it all your own…_

Merlin forced a smile onto his face. "Nothing, just felt like letting her run for a bit." He stroked Willow's neck gently, the hair soft against his fingers.

Arthur's eyes narrowed so that the sky-blue irises appeared darker, noting the way Merlin's smile didn't quite reach his eyes. "Yeah, I don't believe that for a second." He swung himself round and off his horse, leading the mare up the mossy slope until he'd reached the rise of the hill, settling down onto the flattened grass of the lookout over Camelot. There was a brief moment of concern when he genuinely wondered if Merlin would join him before there was a rustling crackle of the leaves parting in Willow's wake and then the raven-haired boy was sinking down to sit next to him.

"You know, you've been my manservant for quite a long time now." Arthur began, not daring to look across, despite the urge to gauge Merlin's reaction. "And surprisingly, I've learnt that you're not an idiot." He shoved Merlin teasingly, mentally congratulating himself as he caught sight of the beginning of a smile. "Most of the time, anyway. The point is that I'd like to think that we're friends."

Merlin went to speak before deciding against it, instead twirling the loose fabric at the base of his shirt between his fingers. Arthur glanced across and frowned, missing the usual cheeky glint in his friend's eyes, and the teasing banter.

"Look," he sighed, leaning forwards to rest his elbows on his legs. "I know I'm a prat sometimes, and unfair too, and you don't deserve it. But you still put up with me, and that goes both ways. You're my friend, Merlin, and I know I don't tell you this enough obviously, because you still keep throwing yourself headfirst into danger despite not even having a sword, but I don't know what I would do if I lost you. Really. I do notice when you have these days when you don't speak very much and just act like you've been stuck in the stocks all night and…well, I'm here. If you ever want to talk. Because the trust and friends' thing works both ways, alright?"

 _So, when we are apart, you'll never be alone…_

"Thank you." Merlin had his eyes closed, his voice small and fractured. Arthur watched him, noting the tensing of his posture and the minute tremors flitting through his shoulders and shifted closer so that he could wrap his arm around the younger boy's back. Merlin relaxed back into the embrace and sniffed, the tears cutting tracks through the dust that had settled across his face. "I will tell you, Arthur, really I will, but today, I just…"

"I get it." Arthur spoke softly, his words tickling the top of Merlin's head. "But hey, it's a pretty nice view from here." Merlin smiled, staring out across the landscape and memorising every detail and the colours of the world in his memories, and the warmth of Arthur pressed to his back, the supporting arm wrapped affectionately around him.

Reaching across, he plucked the dandelion from the patch beside him, twirling it between his fingers absent mindedly. Arthur watched him, trying to hide the fond smile crossing his features before speaking.

"You're supposed to make a wish or something, aren't you?"

Merlin's eyes widened in recognition of the words, but he didn't speak, instead simply nodding.

"Well, go on then."

 _You'll never be alone…_

* * *

Arthur was almost always there for the bad days. To be fair, they spent most of their time around each other so it was rare that a day went past without Merlin meeting his friend at some point, but with Arthur's ever increasing list of duties to the kingdom, sometimes Merlin couldn't help but miss the old days when they could just go out into the forest and enjoy each other's company. Yet, even with everything seemingly trying to tear their friendship apart, Arthur was still there for Merlin and Merlin would always be there for Arthur, even if his friend never knew who it was who sent those mysterious tree branches falling down onto enemy heads.

Most of the time, anyway. Merlin had come down with some mysterious form of the flu, and after running himself into the ground with exhaustion anyway, he'd been hit hard, and Gaius had been genuinely concerned for him for well over a week. Reluctant to leave, but assured that Merlin was well on the mend, Arthur had left to attend a meeting to continue the current treaty held between Camelot and several other kingdoms in the vicinity. He'd been gone two days, and Merlin had finally been allowed to get up and walk around a while when one of his sad days hit him like a carthorse and he found himself sitting up in the highest point of the castle turrets.

He lay back, feeling the cold of the stonework seeping through his thin shirt into his back and laced his fingers together across his chest. Part of him longed to use his magic, just a touch, but the sensible sector of his mind recalled seeing a guard on duty at the door just a few metres downstairs and he didn't feel like being executed just yet. He missed Arthur's cheerfulness during these times, and the feel of the wind in his hair when taking the horses out. Maybe he could call Kilgharrah? Except that Gaius would have his head if he dared to leave the castle grounds while still technically unwell, and he'd worried his mentor enough already this week.

 _When you miss me close your eyes, I may be far but never gone…_

Merlin opened his eyes, the moonlight reflecting pure silver in his pupils. Above him, stars lit the diamond canopy of the night-sky, beautiful and unknown. Breathing in deep, he tasted the familiar burning wood and scents of Camelot upon the breeze, and listened to the distant laughter of children in the lower town, out later than usual, accompanied by the flapping of the Pendragon flag attached to the top of the turret. If Merlin reached out any further then he could just touch it. What seemed ever stranger to him was how close the stars seemed, and the warm feeling of comfort that Arthur would be under the very same stars.

 _When you fall asleep, remember we lay under the same stars…_

* * *

"Merlin! Thank God!" Strong arm wrapped around his shoulders and lower back, pulling him towards a warm chest that was a complete contrast of the cold stonework Merlin had fallen asleep on. Blinking sleepily, he opened his eyes to a red and blond blur, frowning as his vision began to clear slightly.

"Arthur?" He whispered, listening to the pounding of his friend's heartbeat as Arthur clung to him.

"You idiot. I left for one day, Merlin, and you manage to disappear whilst still ill." Arthur shook his head, his eyes red-rimmed and dry tear-tracks stark against his pale face evidence enough that he had been worried. "I didn't…Merlin, you're so cold. I thought you were…" He choked back the words and knitted the fabric of Merlin's shirt between his fingers, resting his forehead to the raven-haired man's shoulders.

"Bad day," Merlin murmured, splaying his fingers out across Arthur's back. It was unlike the blond to keep a hug on for so long, and he couldn't help but feel guilty for worrying Arthur so. He could only imagine how Gaius must be feeling. "I'm sorry."

"You know," Arthur began tentatively, shifting so that their backs rested against the wall. "A while ago you promised that you would tell me."

"Did I use those exact words? I don't think I did."

" _Mer_ lin." Arthur rebuked him, but his voice was tinged with light-hearted amusement. He lowered his voice to a more serious tone. "Really though."

"Alright."

 _And hey, I know there are some things we need to talk about…_

Arthur sat up straighter, listening intently as Merlin closed his eyes, breathing deeply. "You know I grew up without a father. Mother tried her best, but we were on our own and people scorned her for being unmarried and having a _bastard_ for a son." Arthur flinched at the words, subconsciously tightening his grip around Merlin's shoulders. "Kids are cruel, y'know? And it turns out that their parents are as well…"

Merlin lowered his gaze to the floor, trying to hold back the tears as he spoke. The explanation sounded stupid to his own ears and he caught himself mentally hurling the same insults at himself as the entire village had all those years ago, but forced himself to carry on.

 _And I can't stay…_

Silence fell for a few moments. "You never told me. How bad they treated you, I mean."

Merlin stared down at the people below. They scurried about their daily lives like ants, and the idea fascinated him. Anything to avoid looking at Arthur right now, anyway.

"I'm sorry. You, of all people, don't deserve that."

"Yeah, well." Merlin shrugged, and Arthur reached across, tilting his chin up with two fingers until Merlin was forced to meet his gaze, ocean eyes swimming with tears. "You know I never told anyone, right?"

 _Just let me hold you for a little longer now…_

"You know I never had a real friend before you, right?" Arthur replied pointedly. The sunrise streaked across the horizon in pastel hues, so similar to the sunset so many years previously.

"Hey, look. It's a new day."

And Merlin smiled.

 _Never be alone…_

* * *

 ** _Okay, and that's a wrap! What d'you think? Please let me know, even if you just write a :) I really appreciate it!_**

 ** _Feel free to comment songs and I will see you guys very soon!_**

 ** _Kat x._**


	2. Flares

_**So, it's been a while. This is going to be the last time I publish on this site until the end of June this year (yay, GCSEs and project deadlines...so much fun...not), so I figured I would go out with a mess of whump and angst. Thank you to all of you who read and reviewed the last chapter, sorry this took me so long!**_

 _ **Thank you to TitaniumAbsol for the song suggestion :)**_

 _ **Song: Flares**_

 _ **Artist: The Script**_

* * *

Arthur was going to die. This was a fact he had come to terms with. That was a complete lie – despite the numerous life-threatening situations he had ridden into head-first with only a sword in his hand and a faithful servant at his side, he was still unprepared for his imminent death.

He tilted his head back, raindrops splashing against his face, cold rivulets trickling across his cheeks like tears. Warmth bubbled across his lips and when he lifted a thumb to the corner of his mouth it returned stained with crimson blood. He would have given a hysterical laugh, but even the slightest of movements caused black spots to dance across his vision, white-hot pain sinking claws into his ribs. Here lies the Crown Prince of Camelot, about to die in the middle of a forest in foreign territory because he was too much of a stubborn fool to listen to anyone. Well, if that didn't summarise his life quite nicely then he didn't know what did.

His father was going to be disappointed. Arthur could almost picture him. If he narrowed his eyes, he could glimpse a hazy figure, towering over him, all furrowed brows and flushed skin, knuckles bruised with the threat of attack. A pained whine escaped from Arthur's lips and he tried to flee from the image, clawing at the soil behind him until great clumps of earth sunk under his nails and threatened to suck him into the water-logged ground, into his grave before he was dead.

"No," he whispered, a final plea to the ebony skies above. "Please, no."

If Uther would be angry (but mostly disappointed, Arthur reminded himself; his sole purpose was providing security for Camelot in his role as heir) then perhaps Gaius would be sad. Yet Gaius had the respect and care of a whole city at his fingertips and Gwen had Lancelot tailing after her like a sad puppy – Arthur had overheard the letters Gwen talked about with Merlin. He found himself struck with the sudden realisation that no-one would miss him.

His eyes burnt, pricking with scorching tears that hurt as they slipped over his frozen skin. The forest was dark, a lone owl screech piercing the night air. Not a single dancing flame of a search party could be seen, even in the distance where the sky melted into the land.

"M'sorry." Arthur wasn't sure who he was apologising to. He tried to curl his fingers around the torn hem of his shirt, but his fingers wouldn't obey his mind's command, instead falling limply to his side, wet with blood. He was growing delirious, he realised, but it was strangely peaceful.

It hurt to breathe. There was a tide of rising panic surging inside him, clutching at his heart like a vice, squeezing his lungs until he gave a choked whimper. His nails sunk into the mud, frantically scrabbling at anything to ground himself, but nothing felt real and above his head the canopy blurred into one giant shadow, a shroud of darkness coming to suffocate him. Agony sparked along his side once more, and he tried desperately to hold back, but a broken sob scratched against his throat, more precious warmth ebbing away into the soil below.

"Arthur."

He blinked, tears blurring his vision. "Merlin." Merlin would care. He had to believe in that. Precious, fascinating, _kind_ Merlin, who would follow him to the ends of the earth and back without question. Merlin didn't even know Arthur had left; as far as he knew, the prince was tucking into a feast back in Camelot. "Merlin, I don't want to be alone." Death was an unknown quantity, a scary thought which he couldn't comprehend as the aching pain from his limbs was slowly replaced with a penetrating numbness; dying alone was petrifying. Arthur had been alone, in his own way, ever since his birth. He had been oh-so-lonely, and he couldn't breathe, he needed someone, he needed his friend, he needed _Merlin_.

"Arthur."

Arthur wasn't sure whether he was hearing things. Whispers of his name danced on the wind, taunting him, a cruel joke of the world reminding him that he was completely alone. This was it, his final run. No-one was coming to save him. There was no way out.

"Arthur. How did it happen?"

* * *

Two days previously had dawned an ordinary Wednesday, with Arthur being forcibly dragged out of his bed, clinging to the bed post in a feeble attempt to retain the warmth of his blankets only to land in a sprawled heap at Merlin's feet.

"I thought you were leaving."

Merlin raised a brow. "Good morning to you too, sunshine."

"Don't patronise me. I'm the Prince of Camelot."

"Your foot is stuck in the blanket and you're about to trip over," Merlin observed. "Very…princely."

Arthur huffed, retrieving his foot and kicking the blankets in a show of defiance that had Merlin simply rolling his eyes and muttering about _ungrateful princes who wouldn't survive a day without him_. Breakfast was surprisingly substantial for once, with a large platter covered in a colourful array of goodies spread out over the table, a freshly polished plate sitting in pride of place. Arthur tucked into a sausage, reaching for another bread roll when he suddenly stopped, a nagging thought occurring to him.

"What's wrong?"

Arthur pointed his fork at Merlin, eyes narrowed with suspicion. "That's what I should be asking you." He gestured towards the platter, which, while he very much enjoyed it, seemed to be appeasing him before a shock revelation. It was temptation before knowing the true consequences, and Arthur hated not being in the know. "You're never this…"

"Kind?"

"I was going to go with generous, but sure, kind works just as well."

Merlin crossed his arms, an uncharacteristically grumpy expression dawning on his face that had Arthur choking on his roll with laughter. He frantically chugged on a goblet of water, ignoring the judgemental look he was being treated to, slamming the metal back down and lifting his chin in an attempt to regain his dignity. He was a Crown Prince, who should be given respect, honestly _Mer_ lin.

After a moment of Arthur trying to stare him down and failing miserably, Merlin turned away, staring out of the window with a distant look, the glaze of his eyes telling that he was not seeing Camelot stretch out in front of him, but instead a far away memory. His shoulders were hunched, a sense of melancholy about him that was unsettling to Arthur; Merlin was always so happy-go-lucky, sadness was not a good look on him, speaking all kinds of wrong so that Arthur felt the sudden urge to fix it.

"Come on," he coaxed his manservant, struck with the idea that he sounded as though he were speaking to a frightened animal. "Whatever it is it can't be that bad. I know about that time you claimed you were meeting with Gwaine, but you were actually stuck down a well for the whole day, so you truly can't lower yourself any further in my estimations."

"You _know_ about that?" Merlin exclaimed, struck by a second revelation. "If this is you trying to cheer me up then it really isn't working. Your bedside manner must be _horrible_."

"Which is why we must all be glad that I'm a prince, not a physician," Arthur completed the train of thought before Merlin had the chance to continue speaking and lead them entirely off topic. The boy had a knack of dancing around a problem, misleading the speaker until their reason for conversing in the first place was forgotten, lost in a sea of new information that Merlin had _babbled_ out of nowhere. "Really."

Merlin chuckled. "It's nothing, Arthur."

"It's _something_." Arthur leant back in his chair, arms folding across his night-shirt as a faint breeze from the open window fluttered through the room. "You know full well that I'm not going to let this go, so you may as well save us both a lot of bother and effort by telling me."

"I got a letter from my mother."

Arthur snapped his mouth shut, not having expected Merlin to give in quite so easily. He'd met Hunith quite a few times now and had grown to care about the woman who demanded such fierce respect with her kind manner. Besides, he quietly admitted to himself, to have raised someone like Merlin she had to be a wonderful person. "Is she alright?"

Merlin appeared touched to hear the genuine concern in his voice. "Yes." He returned his gaze to the window, seeming troubled. "I just haven't seen her in a long time. A very long time…" His voice wavered. "It's been _seasons_ , Arthur."

Arthur reflected on the last time he'd given Merlin a leave of absence longer than a day and found with a sinking feeling that he couldn't recall it. "You should go and visit her."

"I can't, I've got too much to do here."

Of all the times for Merlin to start caring about his job. "Don't be ridiculous, _Mer_ lin. I can survive without you for a few days."

"You wouldn't survive twenty-four hours."

Arthur shot him an affronted look. "That is offensive. And rude."

"Good." Merlin hesitated. "Are you seriously giving me time off?"

"Go before I change my mind." They both knew he wouldn't. "Oh, and Merlin?"

"Yes, sire?"

Arthur avoided his searching look. "Be careful." He could practically feel Merlin's grin lighting up the room and hid his own smile.

"Always." There was a pattering of footsteps and Arthur thought he had left when there was suddenly a very small voice from the doorway. "Arthur?"

"Yes?"

Merlin gave him a fond look. "Stay safe."

* * *

It was growing darker. Arthur tried to lift a hand to his face, limbs trembling with fatigue as the simple movement took so much effort. It was with a terrified cry that he realised everything was growing darker, and so much colder. He wanted to turn onto his side, away from the deep chill that was settling deeper into his bones, leeching his very essence.

There was a high-pitched ringing in his ears. It still hurt so very, very bad, so that he could barely recognise where the pain ended and his own thoughts began. He tried to speak, but his tongue felt heavy in his mouth and he couldn't form the words. Warmth trickled down his chin, but he couldn't lift his hand to wipe it away.

It was getting colder.

 _Merlin? I'm sorry._

* * *

Merlin rode into Ealdor to the greetings of a small group of children who had grown like beanstalks since he had last seen them. With joyous yelps and tiny hands pattering at his jacket and neckerchief, calling for stories of the legendary Camelot, he made his way towards his mother's cottage with promises that he would describe his adventures later, after sundown.

Hunith was busy at work clearing the barn when he knocked on the door, the light noise carrying across the empty space. She dropped her broom with a gasp, hands flying to her mouth in shock before she was off, feet carrying her lightning-quick across the gap between them. Merlin melted into her warm embrace, the familiar scent of hay and _home_ greeting his nose as he pressed his face into her shoulder, gentle fingers running through his hair.

"Oh, _Merlin_." There were tears in her eyes and he smiled, cupping her cheek and tugging her in for another hug. "How have you been?" She frowned, pushing him back to inspect his appearance and then checking around, a confused expression steadily dawning. "Where's that prince of yours?"

"Arthur?" Merlin questioned. "Back in Camelot, hopefully keeping himself out of trouble." He shuddered. "Gaius promised to keep an eye on him."

"How long are you staying for?"

"A few days," he replied. "Here, let me finish this." He waved a hand, eyes flashing gold and the barn tidied itself up, straw gathering itself into a neat pile at the slightest whisper of magic in the wind. Hunith cuffed him lightly.

"Careful," she reminded him. "Not everyone is so welcoming of your talents, even this far out of Camelot."

Merlin shook his head. "Don't remind me."

The next few hours passed in a bustling mass of tearful hugs and overexcited children; it seemed as though even the _animals_ were happy to see Merlin back, although given they were creatures of nature his magic could have had something to do with it. Either way, Merlin was happy to scratch the horses' velvet noses as they nuzzled his hands, searching for apples in his pockets.

They all gathered in the centre of the village at sunset, streaks of warm paint delicately casting their memories across the cloud-scattered skies. Golden light slipped across the ground, dancing against Merlin's palms as he crafted a flower to tuck into the youngest girl's hair, her eyes growing wide with wonder. Merlin pressed a finger to his lips.

"Our secret," he whispered, and she nodded, amazement clear in her cornflower blue irises.

It was late the second night when the moon was almost at its peak that Merlin jolted awake. The fire had almost burnt itself out, but with a whisper of ancient words it relit, flames bathing the room in warm light. He held out a hand, noting the tremors that shook from his shoulders to his toes and shivered, wrapping his arms about himself.

A kind hand landed on his shoulder. "Are you alright, my boy?"

"I…I don't know." He shuddered, the fierce sense of _wrong_ steadily growing more intense with every second until he felt nauseous with it. "Something's wrong."

"Merlin." Hunith's voice was barely a whisper, drenched in concern and what sounded like a touch of fear. Merlin raised his head to look at her. "Your eyes."

His hands flew to his face. "What about them?"

"They're glowing gold."

"What?" Merlin scrambled to his feet, heading across the room to seize his jacket from the back of the chair. Hunith followed him, her concerned questions remaining unanswered.

"Where are you going?"

"It's Arthur. He's in danger."

"How do you know?"

"I just do. Trust me."

Hunith drew him into a tight hug. "I do. Bring him home safe, Merlin and do be careful."

"I promise." He kissed her on the cheek and bounded out of the door into the night, ancient words spilling from his lips as soon as he reached the clearing on the other side of the woods. Despite the late hour, it took mere seconds before the flapping of wings beat the air, grass flattening against the sheer power of the magical beast that landed there, tail whipping back and forth in agitation.

"What is it, young warlock?"

"I have to get to Arthur."

Kilgharrah's throat rumbled with dry amusement. "Yes, I suppose you do." There was a glint in his liquid gold eyes, a brief speck of concern that spoke of greater feelings beneath the noncommittal guise.

"Can you take me?"

"Once again Merlin I feel pressed to remind you that I am not a horse."

Merlin was hard-pressed not to scream in frustration. "It's a yes or no question, Kilgharrah." He straightened up, chin held high with the sense of purpose that came with great power. "Don't make me command you."

"Would you?" Kilgharrah mused, nestling his head on his front legs. "Yes, I suppose you would. Very well," he slid a wing down to the ground so that Merlin could clamber on, "let us start our search."

* * *

He was drifting. Something hummed in the air around him, alive and electric, a cool blue glow settling across the sky between his speckled vision. Magic? He wasn't sure. He couldn't remember what he was doing here.

It was oh-so-very cold.

* * *

The night air was cold, caressing Merlin's skin with a taste of magic, running gentle touches through his hair and curling around his form as he clung to the Great Dragon's back. Kilgharrah was a bulk of warmth, iridescent gold throwing patterns across the clouds with every beat of his wings. Their bond meant that there was no need for words – Merlin felt where they needed to go, and Kilgharrah in turn understood this, slipping to the left and adjusting course the moment that his dragon-lord thought it.

"Merlin," his gravelly tones suddenly rumbled. "Hold on tight. We are running out of time."

Merlin barely had time to adjust his grip, his magic curling about the dragon subconsciously, before Kilgharrah was off, soaring through the night sky within seconds. Far below the dark depths of the forest passed in a blur of frothy canopy, energy crackling amongst the foliage. The Natural World recognised that a life hung in the balance, and the pure magic of the earth was agitated by the threat to the fragile future.

"We are here." Kilgharrah set down on the edge of the woods, as close as he dared. Merlin didn't bother replying, safe in the knowledge that the dragon could feel his gratitude through their bond. He took off running, sprinting through the bracken, scarcely able to feel the plants and thorns that caught at his clothes, scratching and tugging to no avail. He was a man on a mission, every part of his soul calling out for Arthur. They were two sides of the same coin; you could not have one without the other.

"Arthur!"

He careered down a slope, slipping and crashing down to land on his heels at the base of the brief valley. Around him the air was illuminated by a silvery glow, pure magic dancing through the trees as it protected the fading life force amongst them. Merlin held out a hand, soft words springing a glowing orb to his palm as he searched for Arthur. He was close – he could feel it.

"Come on," he murmured, "where are you?"

A sudden surge of desperation flooded over him. Merlin took a shuddering breath, screaming at the magic around him and calling forth with pure instinct, power rushing to the surface, crackling at his fingertips as his eyes flared a sudden glaring gold. His magic entwined with that of the forest, cool knowledge creeping forwards as he connected with the energy. He was magic, they were one together, but Arthur was his other half, and there was no world where Merlin would ever abandon him. His eyes snapped open, focussing on a barely visible shape in the earth ahead. _Arthur._

* * *

"Arthur, it's okay, I'm here, we're going to get you out of here…just, hold on. Hey. Arthur! Come on, dollop-head, are you listening to me?"

Arthur took a deep gasp of the night air, awareness crashing back into his battered body with a rush of white-hot agony. He scrabbled at the dirt before a hand gripped his own, fingers entwining with his and squeezing. He clung back as though the grounding touch were the only thing keeping him awake, fighting back a cry as another wave of pain attacked his side. A hand ran through his hair, titling his head forwards until he felt his nose brush something warm and powerful, radiating ripples of protect and safe. Arthur couldn't move his arms to cling on, instead burying his face into the warmth as best he could, rough fabric scratching against his neck.

"Can you hear me?" The voice whispered again, achingly familiar. Arthur sniffed, trembling fingers digging into the tan fabric beneath his hands. "Oh no, no, no." There was a soft curse. "What have you done to yourself, you idiot?" A brief laugh, nervous and uncertain. The warmth hummed underneath Arthur's touch. "I told you that you wouldn't last a day without me."

Fragments of memory fluttered back to him, like pieces of a previously forgotten dream, or recollection from a very young moment of childhood. Arthur blinked, tears catching on his lashes. A thumb brushed against his cheek, wiping them away, and he found himself staring into the depths of very familiar blue eyes, rimmed with a golden hue.

"Merlin," he breathed. "You came back."

Merlin gave him a tearful smile. "I always come back for you, my friend."

He was tugged close to his friend's skinny chest, Merlin's heartbeat pounding in his ears through the faint buzzing of blood loss. Fingers tangled in his hair, a cheek pressed to the crown of his head and quiet words whispered into the ever-encroaching darkness, fierce protectiveness blanketing him.

"Make it stop," Arthur mumbled, the words slurred.

"Make what stop?"

"The pain."

Merlin gingerly lifted his hand from Arthur's back and winced. In the light of silver glow (how had Arthur not recognised the magic - both Merlin's and the forest's - surrounding him?) his hand was drenched in blood, dripping crimson onto the decaying leaves below.

"Merlin?"

"Yes?"

A murmur of amazement. "You're still here."

"I'd never leave you."

"I don't understand…" A whine as the pain radiated across his ribs. "I was alone."

"I'm here."

"I'm always alone." A light kiss dropped to his forehead. "I'm scared."

Hot tears dripped into his hair. Beneath his hands, Merlin was trembling. Arthur imagined that his eyes were bright gold. "You don't have to be scared anymore. You're not alone. I came back for you, Arthur, as I always will."

"But why?"

That was a whole new issue they would deal with later, Merlin decided. "Because it's you, Arthur, it's always been you. You're the Once and Future King, and I'm proud to call you my friend. And maybe you don't admit it, but I know you think of me as a friend too, so I will always return to save you, or die at your side."

Arthur dropped his forehead to Merlin's shoulder. "The world's awake."

"No." Merlin whispered, voice breaking with unshed tears. "It's just alive."

Arthur's eyes widened with childlike wonder. "Magic."

There was a shocked gasp from Merlin, whose eyes were still gold, but Arthur couldn't hold on any longer, plunging into darkness.

* * *

Arthur awoke to the chimes of glass and crackling of burning wood, the scent of old parchment mixed with exotic spices meeting his nose a moment later. Something soft brushed his arm and he tilted his head to the side to glimpse Merlin, asleep with his head pillowed in his arms on the bed, one hand clutching Arthur's.

"Ah, good, you're finally awake." Gaius' voice was quiet but brimming with relief, joy dancing in his elderly features as he placed his tray of vials down on the table. The reason for his low volume was made evident when Arthur caught sight of Gwen, also asleep, but in a chair next to the fire. "You gave us quite a scare."

"Where's my father?" The words were automatic, but Arthur didn't miss the slight wince that Gaius barely managed to hide.

"The king had to attend the inspection of the guard."

"Has he visited at all?"

Gaius' features softened. "In the beginning, yes. It's been almost a week, Arthur, I thought we would lose you."

Arthur dropped his gaze to Merlin's slumped form, a fond smile playing at his lips. "You almost did."

As if on cue, Merlin sat up, blinking sleepily, hair askew and an imprint of the wrinkled sheet against his cheek. He rubbed at his eyes, yawning widely, before realisation dawned and he surged forwards across the bed, hands flying to Arthur's shoulder. Wide blue eyes inspected the prince for any signs of ill health.

"First of all," Merlin began with a sense of importance about him that had Arthur bemused. "I would like to say that you have no idea how happy I am to see you awake. You scared me."

"Always glad to be of service."

"Second of all," Merlin took a deep breath. "What were you thinking? You colossal clotpole. Every time I think you may actually have a brain in there," he tapped Arthur's forehead. "You go and do something tremendously stupid! You went out, by yourself none-the-less, into foreign territory, due to unconfirmed reports of a village in trouble."

Arthur huffed. "It's not like they were about to helped by anyone else."

"You got stabbed Arthur! Repeatedly! You almost bled out in my arms, do you have any idea what that feels like? You were saying goodbye."

"Merlin…"

"Saying goodbye to me as if I'd ever be able to live with myself after that. And this isn't the only time you've done it. You're always riding headfirst into danger, like you have some kind of death wish. Do you have a death wish? Because if you do, then I think I deserve to know about it, given that it's always me dragging you out of danger and saving your miserable life just so you can go and try to throw it all away again, as though you mean nothing! And you're wrong, Arthur, because you mean a lot to everyone…to me. I can't keep…you were dying, and I couldn't do anything."

"Merlin."

"No, this is when you shut up and listen to me. How many times, Arthur?"

"Merlin." Arthur finally caught his attention. "I'm sorry."

Merlin blinked. "What?"

"I said, I'm sorry. Don't make me repeat myself again. You're right, I should have waited for more details, or at least taken someone with me. Sir Leon did offer. But I was being stubborn and…" Arthur sighed. "I was being a clotpole."

Merlin's eyes lit up and he sank onto the bed with a heavy sigh. "I told you it was a word."

"I will deny it until the day I die." Merlin winced. "Too soon?"

"Very much so."

"Sorry."

"Apparently almost dying taught you manners." Or maybe it was flying on the back of a thousand-year-old dragon, Merlin supplied mentally.

Arthur clapped a hand to Merlin's shoulder. "Thank you."

"How much do you remember?" Curiosity was alight in Merlin's face. He leant forwards as Arthur thought of his reply. Next to the fire, Gwen let out a sleepy sigh, warmth from the flames guiding her into a deeper sleep.

"Honestly? Not that much. I remember you babbling about the once and future king and," his voice softened, "promising not to leave, but everything after that is a blur?"

Tension leaked from Merlin's shoulders. His magic remained a secret. He huffed a laugh, knocking his knee against Arthur's. "Your father was really worried, he left the feast and everything."

Arthur smiled.

"He hasn't been back since though, so he's still a prat."

"Merlin!"

* * *

 _ **Review?**_

 _ **Kat x**_


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